What's the etiquette here??

Been on the salads, cold meats and strawberries for a few days now. Drank an uncontrollable and unforeseeable amount of Barbadian Dark Rum last night, i think the fog got to my demean, I was over zealous to say the least.

Farted all night long, whilst listening twice, to the Eagles' timelessly underrated rhythm and blues album HOTEL CALIFORNIA, it is a must have for any discerning music enthusiast. I bought one of those new Samsung Fridges last week, it looks foooking amazing and my chistín has a very modern look to it now. It almost has the appearance of a Porn Hub dirty movie set filmed in New Mexico, i even considered calling a few degenerates over before Dawn , but like the gentle Vampire Lord that I strive to be, settled for some minor reminiscing, alcohol abuse and irreverent fantasy's about Chrissy Hynde..... you had to be there. Don't forget, you can't see me in the mirror?

Anyways, all that fresh beetroot and cucumber needed shifting and nothing like a bottle of Mount Gay to sort the ruffage. I felt it was necessary, as I had been sadly extoling some rather scatty, anti-climatic drops earlier in the week, they were putrid offerings and I was not fully satisfied with my canon if I am being straight with you. There is NOTHING WORSE than having scatty dry crap, brought on, by rash, over zealous healthy eating exertions? It kind of feels like your blow hole is populated by dried buttered popcorn, its worse than scraping your nails down a blackboard or walking in fresh snow.

To fully appreciate how wound and bound up I was feeling, I spent over an hour in the midst of a frantic drunken notion demanding with great menace the phone number and address of the pop singer Rihanna, that's right mortals..... to an Antiguan telephone operator, only to be told " hay mon , calm yosel Dowen. rihanna is from Bar Bay Doss ".... i had this image of the dude looking like a smug version of crack sleuthe Lester Freamon. I deflected by asking him for Brian Lara's number, at which point the line died. Rihanna is Barbadian as it happens, she is a fine example of the merits of Caribbean Queens.

Completely ossified, I decided to head out the back garden and pretend i was my better half's Cocker Spaniel. I was convinced the fog would be adequate cover for me to have a sublime rum induced AL FRESCO mid summer shight, right bang in the middle of my own back garden. It was a magical affair mortals. The fog was thick and dense, not unlike the spew of rummed up midden that splattered out my ancient asshole, in some of the finest movements I have had the pleasure of being involved with since god knows when. I shat the world and the universe all over and around my own paid garden this morning, whilst hopping around bollick naked from the waste down, I must have resembled the look of some sort of Narnian fantasy only CS Lewis himself could have designed, have you ever seen a Fairie shight his own backyard whilst howling like a cartoon Kangaroo?

Not done with defecating in my back garden, and here, before anyone pipes up, I mow that phucker myself, if I want to have drunken dawn raids all over it I will, I will also wipe my hole with early season Flat Lettuce to spite the trouble in strife if i feel like it? eh? Mhm? yeah ?

Post delivery I maintained the awkward inverted crab gymnastic pose and laughed loudly and hysterically for around 5-10 minutes, full bellyache, the dog was so excited the dirty bitch opted to start rolling around in my own crap whilst I sat there roaring hysterically and degenerately like only a 1500 year old Vampire Lord can.

Try it some time, but you need the fog, trust me. If anyone can get me a date with Rihanna I should be much obliged. She can help me drink my Rum all night. Mammy.

I guess talking shight gets more difficult after a while.

It was the Dark Rum mixed with fog and a Rihanna infatuation.

Enjoy your movements this week, may they drop clean.

I used the Landline to Antigua, I was on for an hour lecturing the operators about Gangster Rap and the CIA collusion, they all were flabbergasted, but they came around. An hour waffling to strangers on a landline will be pricey I reckon.

Shighting in your back garden is not the same as shighting on your doorstep?

It ain't what you dump, it's the way you dump it.

Muchos Grassy Ass Schteeeeevvvve.

Smiley Face, Thumbs up and caps off emoji.

Always found the Gick a great place, decent crew and the Carmelites did their upmost. Any past pupils are sound out.

Lakelands was originally grazed with cows and the Gick reference is seemingly derived from the pungent hue of cow manure in their changing rooms, which more than likely was from the local slurry pit? Dairy Farming was a thriving local industry before the baby boom, as HB needed as much milk as it could muster. They kept the whole south side in Choc ices , Loop de Loops and Gollywog bars, to name but a few.

Security at rugby matches has degenerated. Treat people like animals they will act accordingly. The IRFU would want to be watching themselves anyways. They have gotten greedy with ticket prices which has metastasized into the domestic scene. Many Dad's I know are now switching to a League of Ireland game with the kids etc. Far cheaper to go to UCD or Tallaght for a match than the RDS or Lansdowne. They are pricing supporters out of it.

Apologies for meandering the thread, but i do pride myself on defending my neighbours, i love them as i love thyself.